


If He Doesn't Want to Be Found

by undersail2013



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel in the Bunker, Demon Dean Winchester, Gen, Human Castiel, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Original Character(s), implied sam/jody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:32:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1983159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undersail2013/pseuds/undersail2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bunker just isn't home since the Mark of Cain claimed a new Knight of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If He Doesn't Want to Be Found

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from [DestielFicletChallenge](http://destielficletchallenge.tumblr.com/): "Person A throws a surprise party for Person B" (same prompt given also to [superwhomerlockedwithtomh](http://superwhomerlockedwithtomh.tumblr.com/))

Cas sighed.

It was the third time since his last expedition to retrieve more books. Sam tried to remember if Cas had turned the page even once in all that time.

“What’s up, Cas?” he asked gently.

He exhaled a long breath and thought a moment before answering. “It’s very quiet.”

“Yeah. It is quiet.” 

He didn’t have to elaborate. No doubt, the bunker was a different place these days. It was as clean and tidy as ever. Maybe not clean, Sam thought with a frown; the fine layer of dust clinging to every surface confirmed that. But orderly, as Cas had once called it. Orderly. The library books always found their way back to their exact location, spines facing the right direction, and Cas spent hours smoothing his hands along the edge of the shelves, aligning the volumes flush with the wood below them. A place for everything and everything in its place.

Whereas before, there had been something of chaos, a willful effort towards entropy. 

“Are you cold? I’m going to check the thermostat,” Cas grumbled.

“You’re always cold,” Sam intoned automatically. It was a thing they did these days, these rote conversations, played out day after day, hunt after hunt. But the word tugged at Sam suddenly. _Cold._ That was it, wasn’t it? The difference in the feel of the place. Not a superficial sensation, though, raising goosebumps on exposed flesh. This was a visceral chill that settled deep in his guts and froze him from the inside out. Numbed him to real life. 

The bunker lacked warmth. It lacked a certain fire. It lacked a certain soul. It used to feel like home, but it hadn’t felt like that in a long time, not since … well.

Cas had come to the bunker not long after he found out. He’d fallen ill shortly thereafter, the stolen grace within him burning like a fever, wracking his vessel with seizures and leaving his mind in a sort of torpor for hours. In the absence of better nurses, Sam took charge of his care, wrangling him into the bathroom and submerging him in ice water. But of course it wasn’t that type of fever. Earthly cures were useless. Both of them knew what had to be done. The next time Cas came back to himself, Sam was seated beside him, an angel blade across his lap.

“It’s time to cut it out,” he told Cas, passing him the weapon.

Cas nodded. “Help me into the shower room, please; this could get messy.”

Sam stayed close as Castiel carved out his kidney with a butter knife, metaphorically speaking. His grace was well and truly gone this time. When it was done, he collapsed. Sam washed him and dried him and dressed him and put him back to bed. 

He screamed for days as the wounds healed over. As the last of his celestial nature fell away forever. 

He screamed every night after that, and nothing Sam could do would ever make it better.

When Cas was well enough, Sam brought him to the library, propped him in the comfy chair, however much Cas insisted that he was _quite capable of sitting anywhere, Sam, you don’t have to coddle me._ Sam just smiled sadly and settled a stack of books on his lap.

Cas had come because he wanted to help, but neither he nor Sam really knew what to do. Tracking and summoning demons was child’s play; they did it all the time. 

But how do you find a Knight of Hell if he doesn’t want to be found?

Sometimes Sam snuck away to the crossroads, hoping to find someone, anyone, who could help them, who might have seen Dean Winchester. He even prayed once or twice, an all-call. One of the Commander’s old crew had shown up, but she couldn’t do much for their real problem. She did take a moment to crouch, awestruck, before Castiel and press two fingers to his forehead. He gasped and was whole. Human, yes, but whole. 

“Thank you, Malika,” he murmured. 

“Take care of yourself, sir. I’ve seen that you and your friends play rough. But the Community Outreach mission is still active. If you, either of you,” she turned to Sam, “ever need us, just pray. We’ll hear you.”

They accepted the offer on Cas’ very first hunt. It wasn’t Cas who ended up in the hospital, nor Sam, but the hunter who had spotted the aberration, tracked the patterns, and called for back-up. Krissy put her in touch with Sam. Sam and Cas drove out to Omaha to investigate, and they showed up just in time to watch the shifter tree her and then shoot her down in cold blood. Cas claimed the kill that night, but it was a hollow victory with Ashley in a heap on the ground.

More hunts came, some successful, some … less so. Cas’ aim improved, his judgment got better, he started to pick up on the silent signals his partner gave. Hell, Sam looked down one day to find that he and Cas were walking in sync. It made him sad. It made him think of Dean. 

Not that Sam wasn’t pleased to see how well, how quickly Cas adapted to life as a human. To the life. Truth be told, Sam knew that Cas always had been a warrior, that traveling with a couple of bumpkin humans had always been taken by his brethren as a pretty serious step backwards. Still, he was proud of his friend, and told him so.

“I’m grateful for all the help you’ve given me, Sam. I would not be alive now, if you hadn’t insisted on saving me. Though I’m not sure I deserve your kindness. I feel like I had one job, one single responsibility, and I have failed: I failed Dean. And in so doing, I have failed you.”

“No,” Sam shook his head, his long hair swirling against his shoulders. “No, no one can take the blame for this, except Dean. And maybe not even him; I mean, it sounds like Crowley orchestrated the whole thing. And Cain. If you’re right about the Mark, that the Mark,” he choked out the words, “turned him, that he would always end up like this eventually, then Cain should have told him.” Sam couldn’t speak for a moment as he fought for composure. “Look, I know you want to help him; so do I. But we’ve searched everything! It’s been months, and we’re no closer to an answer!”

Cas had only nodded dumbly. He swiped his hand across the top of the nearest bookcase, leaving a handprint trail in the dust, and headed off towards his room.

Here it was, two weeks later, a ghost, two low-level lackey demons, and a mop job concerning a rogue vamp in Chicago later, and they once again found themselves gravitating towards the useless old library books. Hundreds of resources on angels, of all things, and barely a mention of Cain’s Knights.

Cas returned wrapped in another sweater, this one a plain grey one, from the Men of Letter’s old linen closet probably.

“I hope that’s one of the ones he washed. You don’t want to get spiders in your hair. Or worse.”

“It’s fine. They’re all washed now,” he sighed. “Sam, I have an idea.”

“What’s your idea?”

He frowned, unsure how to begin. At length, he hummed and said, “We know where he is.”

“We have a few crossroad demons who said he was in Hell. That’s not really-”

“If he was in Hell, every demon would know it. He’s in Hell. The problem is, he doesn’t want to be found.”

“Yeah, that’s the gist of it.”

Cas leaned forward, knuckles white against the tabletop, his eyes bright for the first time in, well, in a long time. “What if we could make him want to be found?”

“How do you mean?”

“We need to lure him somehow.”

“Lure him?”

“He thinks he has to stay away. That he’s toxic.”

“Which is where this whole thing started,” Sam added bitterly.

“If he thought you were in danger, though? Would he come topside of his own accord?”

“Hmm. But I’ve tried summoning him. He’s either ignoring us or we just don’t have the right juju for summoning a Knight.”

“I don’t think he could ignore you. Not this long.” He paused. “If I understand the metaphysics correctly, he doesn’t feel anything right now, not really. Which is why summoning works on supernatural beings and not humans. The emptiness makes the symptoms all the more obvious. And irritating. It would be an itch, a crawling sensation under his skin. Even Dean wouldn’t be able to resist for long.”

“Maybe you should try.”

“Me? Why would he come because I summoned him?”

Sam shot him a look. “Are you seriously asking?”

Cas averted his eyes. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I think you’re wrong.”

“Cas. You have to know- How he feels about you, it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.”

He just shook his head. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m not,” Sam said as gently as possible. “You should try.”

“No. I’m not discounting … what you say. But I think the ingredients are wrong. We’re missing a component. What would make Dean drop this charade? What would make him look beyond himself and his own self-loathing for long enough to talk to us?” 

“You’re onto something with the ‘person in danger’ thing, Cas. But I don’t think we want to lure him on a lie.”

Cas looked confused for a moment before agreeing. “Yes, you’re right. We need him to trust us.”

Sam thought for a moment. “How do we summon at a crossroad? We leave offerings, but also a token to show who’s calling. Maybe we need to be more transparent. Let him know for sure that it’s us and not Crowley or, or some other freak who happens to have his number.”

Nodding, Cas added, “And something to show why we’re summoning him.” His eyes, downcast, flicked back and forth as he considered and discarded possible solutions. “Different herbs, colors, textures evoke a sort of mood. We need to let him know that we’re not calling him out of fear or anger, but out of love.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Love?”

A small smile lit Cas’ face. “Well, yes. Is there anything more appealing to the Dean we knew than love?”

“Huh. You know what? You’re right. We’ve been going about this all wrong, Cas! We tried to use conventional magic against a demon, instead of calling out to Dean!” He strode away to locate the spell book he’d been using, and when he returned to the table, he found Cas leaning against the table with his head bowed, his hands clamped tight over the edge, and he was almost visibly vibrating.

“Cas? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m more than fine. I’m-” He looked up then, and his eyes were wild. Shining. “We’re getting him back, Sam. And I know just how we’re going to do it.”

He sat hunched over the table as he wrote out a list of everything they’d need. After a time, Sam peeked over his shoulder. In one column, he gave the ingredients for the spell. The usual bones, blood, and dust, but also “rose petals” and “mementos of D / S / C.” The second column was a list of names. Their own at the top in typical Cas fashion, followed by Krissy and her gang, then a bunch of people that Sam wouldn’t have expected him to know or consider: Charlie, Mrs. Tran, Garth, Jody, Annie for crying out loud! He had started a third, but he’d only gotten as far as “PIE” and “beer? Or whiskey,” with a neat line through “Or whiskey.” Sam wondered aloud what he was doing.

Cas shoved the paper into Sam’s hands. “I’m not a ‘people person,’ so you’ll have to start with this and go from there.”

“But what is _this_?” Sam asked, getting frustrated.

Without a drop of irony or humor, Cas replied, wide-eyed, “We’re throwing him a party.”

Sam smiled his confusion. “Uh. A what?”

“A party.”

“How’s that gonna help?”

“He needs to know he’s needed. We have to give him a reason to come home. And I believe the phrase is, ‘The more, the merrier.’”

Sam considered Cas’ idea. It … wasn’t crazy. “So you’re saying, we invite all these people, and then Dean will just, what, show up?”

“Yes. Well,” he bopped his head, “we’ll still have to do the spell. And we’ll want some record of them for the spell. Photographs, perhaps? Photographs could work.” He craned his neck to look again at the list. “You’re going to want to invite them. And anyone else you think might be valuable.”

“I should invite them,” he asked flatly.

“Yes.” He stared steadily at Sam. “I wrote the spell. You can assemble the components.”

“Right. Okay.” He blew out a breath. “A surprise party for my brother, the demon. That’s probably not as weird as it sounds.”

***

It took Sam a week to gather everything and everyone. The young people were checking up on a family of witches and didn’t get his message right away. Charlie had only just started a new job since her return from Oz, so she had to trade time with another employee, and Garth's family had a new pup at home. Jody and Annie and Mrs Tran were ready at a moment’s notice, but they had to factor in travel time. 

In the end, everyone showed, everyone brought food and drink, and everyone was found a cozy bed in case the party was a success. (Sam stashed a few demon-deterrents around the library, just in case the party didn’t go so well after all.) Cas greeted the guests at the door and sent them down to the library. Given the option of meeting people one-on-one or in small groups versus hosting duties, there was no question which he preferred. Just hearing Sam list off the host’s responsibilities exhausted him: pouring drinks, pointing out the food table, _introductions._ Sam knew these people. Sam liked these people. Cas was happy to learn their names, escort them the short distance from the road to the Hobbit Door, and direct them down the long corridor to the front door and the main staircase.

He checked off the invitees as they arrived, and when his list was complete, he went inside to assist Sam. He found the library quite full. Krissy and Josephine draped over the comfy chair opposite Aiden and Melissa. They were chatting with Jody’s daughter about hunting, probably trying to recruit her, if Sam’s prediction could be trusted, and Cas could just make out Josephine mentioning to Annie that Melissa had also been obligated to take the cure.

“You’ve been turned, too!” Melissa shrieked.

“Keep it down,” Annie hissed. “It wasn’t exactly a happy moment for me, okay?”

He continued towards Sam at the other end of the room, trapped between Jody and Mrs Tran. Cas wondered why the one was addressed formally while the other was not, until he actually spoke to them. Jody shook his hand, said she’d heard a lot about him, and complimented his looks. He didn’t quite know how to react to that; he frowned and tilted his head in response. Mrs Tran took one look at him and said, “You look smaller without that big coat,” and told him to refresh her drink. 

To his credit, Sam tried not to laugh. Jody made no such effort. “I’m sorry, Cas, it’s just- Ha! Honey, she’s gotta be a whole foot shorter than you,” she giggled. “It’s just too good! Sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” Cas walked away then, but he noticed that Sam looked at Jody differently after that. His eyes bore a soft expression, and he smiled more readily when she spoke. 

Sam gave the assembled party a few moments before addressing them. “What we’re attempting today, it’s dangerous. If this works, and we’re hoping it does, we don’t know, ahem, what we’ll be dealing with. Will it be Dean as we knew him, or- Point is, we want all of you to stay safe, as safe as possible. Cas and I, we’ll go do the spell together, just the two of us, while the rest of you stay up here. I showed all the hunters the caches of, um, tools, and gave you each a buddy to watch out for.” Someone snickered, and Sam raised his voice to say, “It’s not funny and this is not a joke. We’re summoning an unkillable … creature,” his voice cracked and he looked down at his hands. “If my brother’s not in there, it will kill every one of us as soon as look at us. Hell, he may do it anyway. It just depends how lost he is.” Charlie had to leave the room; she returned a few minutes later with wet eyes, a red nose, and a box of tissues. “The plan is, you all stay here. Cas and I will lock ourselves in the dungeon, put up as many containment wards as we can. We’ll have a phone on speaker so one of you can monitor us remotely. Jody, you think you can handle that?”

“I’m on it, Sam. Whatever happens, I can dispatch you back-up or I can evacuate the others.”

He nodded. “Good. Yes. Perfect. So, I guess that’s it. Make yourselves at home. But don’t get too comfortable. Stay alert, okay?” He waited as everyone nodded and muttered various affirmations. He exhaled sharply and turned to Cas. “You ready?”

Cas put on his sternest, least terrified face and fell in behind Sam.

***

It had been Cas’ idea to summon Dean into the devil’s trap in the dungeon, though there was no guarantee that a conventional trap would hold a Knight. They were willing to take their chances. He added a few spare sigils, just in case; one he wrote in his own blood. Hopefully Dean, or the demon he had become, would understand the precautions.

Sam began the spell. Cas watched the center of the circle, impatiently awaiting his turn.

*POP*

The moment the final syllable fell from Castiel’s lips, a figure appeared in the trap. It regarded them silently through dead black eyes. 

“Dean?”

“You were expecting someone else? What the hell is this shit, Sammy? Don’t you know I don’t belong here?”

“Calm down, Dean.”

“Calm. That’s real funny, Cas. Like I’m supposed to be calm, like I’m supposed to be perfectly okay with my brother and, and, and my best friend or whatever, just casually summoning my ass? I’m a demon, I don’t belong here! Just send me back to Hell. Now!”

“No, Dean,” Sam said. “That’s never gonna happen. We need to talk about this, okay? You’re a demon, we get it. Fine. But you have to stay calm. Okay? Stay calm, and we’ll deal with this together, just the three of us. Like we always do.”

“Heh. Yeah. Where’ve I heard that before,” he shrugged, a raw sad smile tugging at his mouth. “So talk.”

“Okay,” Sam began. “First thing, I guess: are you you?”

“Not really, Sam, I’m a fucking demon.”

“What he means to ask,” Cas clarified, “can we trust you to behave as Dean would, or do we treat you like a demon?” 

His eyes flicker back to green irises. “Yeah, I get it.” He sounded a bit defeated. “I’m me. But I’m, like, Hulk me. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

Cas nodded. “Then put down the blade, and we’ll open the trap.”

Dean glared at both of them for a long minute. “Fine.” He placed the First Blade on the ground within the circle and held his hands up in surrender. “Hurry, though, it’s singing to me.”

Sam broke the trap with his foot, and Dean stepped free. “So where is everyone?”

“What?”

“The summoning. It was weird, but I got the idea there were a bunch of people around.”

“They’re upstairs, waiting to see how you react to finding yourself suddenly on Earth.”

He chuckled, a hideous little sound. “Well, it’s pretty good, I guess.” 

“We missed you,” Cas added bluntly. “Not just us, but all of the people upstairs. They’ll want to see you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course, idjit,” Sam said, and it made Dean smile as it always did when anyone stole Bobby’s gruff turn of a phrase. “Will you come up?”

He grimaced, but agreed. “Yeah, fine. Whatever.”

***

Flanked by Sam and Cas, who were both armed to the teeth, they made their way to the library. Everyone remained perfectly still, waiting. At length, Dean decided he’d better break the silence. “Surprise,” he said.

“Surprise, Dean,” Cas whispered beside him. A few others echoed.

Dean turned his head. “You did this for me?”

“Of course we did.” Cas shifted. “We can help, Dean. You’ve seen the video reel: it won’t be easy or pleasant, but it can be done.”

_“Lustra.”_

“That’s it. Go, visit with your friends. Can I get you anything, a beer, a-?”

“It’s okay, Cas.” Sam clapped Dean on the back, and Dean watched as he moved off to steal one of Charlie’s tissues. Laughing somewhat more cheerfully this time, he stared at Cas. 

“What?”

“I dunno, man. Who else but you would have ever thought to use a surprise party as a summoning spell? You really are full of surprises.”

Cas opened his mouth to answer, but Dean’s hand flew suddenly to Cas’ face. Cas flinched, until a thick thumb smoothed over his stubble. 

“Heya, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“You’re human.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Cas nodded. “I am.”

He looked down at himself. “So I don’t understand: how’d this happen? How’d you manage to get me topside?”

Cas cocked his head. “Do you know what day it is?”

“I don’t know. It feels like a hundred years since I got- since you broke-” He shook his head in frustration. “Dammit, I can’t talk about this.”

“You were gone less than a year. It’s 2014. September 18.”

Dean considered his meaning. It didn’t take him long to recognize the date: “You pulled me from perdition. Again.”

Cas nodded, and his eyes were fucking sparkling.

“You know, Cas,” Dean murmured, smirking, “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. Six years, in fact.”

“What’s that, Dean?”

He reeled Cas in, closer, closer, and captured his lips with his own. Cas kissed back, one hand on Dean’s hip and the other seizing his shirt and gripping him tightly. He sighed when Dean’s other hand came to rest on the back of his neck, pulling him still closer

The moment was not theirs for long, as shouts and catcalls rang out around them. “Holy hell!” Jody cheered.

They pulled apart reluctantly but refused to look around at the raucous well-wishers. Cas’ eyes burned brightly, and Dean couldn’t imagine looking anywhere else, forever. “I missed you, too.”


End file.
